


Prompto Argentum, Pick-up (dudes from ancient caves) Artist

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, The wrong (right) Besithia finds Ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 12:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18260984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: An AU where Prompto Argentum, travel photographer and best friend of the Prince, happens upon a strange man in a cave off Galdin Quay...A fill for the kinkmeme!





	Prompto Argentum, Pick-up (dudes from ancient caves) Artist

Prompto Argentum's kayak was sinking. 

He couldn't exactly deny it, not when he was fifty yards out from Angelgard, with his camera bobbing in a plastic case while saltwater sloshed over his legs and drenched his jeans. The nose of the kayak was tilted at an angle, like Prompto was preparing to paddle his way straight into the continental shelf, and dampness was already creeping up his shirt, clinging to his skin. 

"Okay," he said, and shifted the body of the enormous man slumped over the kayak. The man's head bumped Prompto's shoulder, spilling long, tangled red hair over his back. "Okay. I can do this."

The man groaned softly, eyelids fluttering. Prompto adjusted the bungee cords tying them together and started to paddle again. The side of the paddle smacked the guy in the knee, and his long legs slid off the edge of the kayak, dangling in the water.

"This is fine!" Prompto said, as the kayak sank another inch into the ocean. "This is just fine!"

It was supposed to be an easy job. His boss, the editor of a small magazine based in Insomnia, had sent him out on an all-expenses-paid trip to Galdin, all so he could take pictures of interesting rocks and the occasional porpoise. Angelgard had been perfect for the cover of the summer edition, and Prompto was the only photographer on payroll who knew how to take underwater shots without wrecking the lighting, so it was the perfect assignment.

Finding the cave had been a fluke. The entrance was caught between two rocks that framed the sun, and Prompto only saw it because he pretty much tripped into it while trying to get a closer shot. And, well, what kind of a travel photographer would ignore a hidden _cave_ in the middle of nowhere, right?

But then he'd climbed inside, and when he turned on his cellphone flashlight...

The man tied to Prompto murmured something in a low, thick voice, and Prompto stopped paddling to pat him on the chest.

"It's cool," he said, driving them forward another few yards. "We're almost at the dock, dude."

The man blinked hard, then tipped his face to the side, nose pressed to the hollow of Prompto's neck. Heat bloomed there, rising to Prompto's cheeks and ears like a rash, and Prompto scrambled for the dock, pulling the kayak the last foot before it started to slip out from under him. Prompto made a high sound in the back of his throat as it sank, and dragged the half-conscious man onto the dock, bungee cords straining.

"Dude," Prompto said, shoving the guy's legs out of the water. "You're so. Fucking. Big."

He hauled himself up over the dock as well, soaking a puddle over the new boards, and rolled onto his back under the brilliant golden sunset. Below them, the sea bubbled as Prompto's kayak gave up the ghost, drifting lazily to the ocean floor.

"What on earth?" The man on the dock tried to sit up, arms trembling. His hair was a sodden mess, falling in waves over his bare, heaving chest, and the ragged skirt tied around his waist shifted just enough for Prompto to see the corded muscle of his thighs, covered with thick red hair.

"Take it easy, big guy," Prompto panted, and patted weakly at his thigh. The man gave him a curious look, and Prompto held up his hand. "Prompto Argentum. Photographer. Found you in a cave."

The man paused a moment, staring at his hand, and held out his own. Prompto took it, and the man's eyes narrowed. "Ardyn," he said. "Ardyn Lucis..." He stopped, and ran his teeth over his lower lip. "Izunia. Ardyn Izunia. I believe I may owe you my life."

"Nah," Prompto said, and flopped back down to the dock. "I'll just settle for another kayak."

 

***

 

"You can't just pick up a guy in a cave!"

"I know, man." Prompto held his phone against his ear with one shoulder. Behind him, Ardyn was in the far end of the rented caravan, trying on clothes. Most of Prompto's stuff was four sizes too small for him, but he had a mesh tank top from an old concert that proved to be pretty stretchy, so that and a carefully applied towel were all that protected Ardyn from the elements. 

Ardyn flicked at the base of the tank top, which stopped just below his pecs. The snap was loud as a gunshot to Prompto, who stared at the chest hair peeking through the mesh netting.

"What if he's involved in something?" Prompto's best friend hissed over the phone. "What if he's like, a freak, and he tied himself up in the cave on purpose?"

"Really, Noct?" Prompto whispered.

"I believe this may be my size," Ardyn said, and pulled out one of Prompto's handmade kilts with an elastic band around the side. He stepped into it, and the towel slithered off his waist. Prompto hurriedly turned his back.

"I don't know. You know how people get. Maybe he's an artist."

"I've dated artists before, dude," Prompto said.

"Oh, dear," Ardyn said. "I fear this isn't much of an improvement."

"Who said anything about dating?" Noct asked. "Prompto, you aren't gonna _make moves on a guy in a cave?_ "

Prompto glanced over his shoulder. Ardyn was frowning down at his hips, which were barely covered by Prompto's plaid kilt. "Gotta go," Prompto said. "Oatmeal's burning."

"Hold it, Prompto. Oatmeal doesn't--"

Prompto hung up the phone.

"Maybe I should buy you something at the gift shop," Prompto said, setting the phone down on the counter. It immediately started buzzing. "What size are you? XXL?"

"Size?" Ardyn asked. 

"Like, clothing," Prompto said. "Small, medium..." Ardyn just gave him a blank look, and Prompto forced himself not to let his gaze wander to the kilt. "How long were you... in there?"

"Long enough," Ardyn said. He smiled, and Prompto felt sweat start to bead on the back of his neck. 

"Must be." Prompto swallowed. "Must be pretty hungry, then. Shit, I should've taken you to a hospital. What if you're dehydrated? Are you dehydrated?"

Ardyn raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe so," he said, and looked Prompto up and down, lingering on his bony hips and red, flushed face. "Let's start with dinner and work our way up from there, shall we?"

"Right," Prompto said. "One sec."

Half an hour later, Ardyn was dressed in khaki shorts, massive pink flip flops, and a tight-fitting XXXL shirt with the words "You Gotta Sea Galdin Quay" on the front. He shouldn't have looked attractive. No one with purplish leg hair and khaki shorts should have looked attractive, but Ardyn had tied up his hair in a long ponytail, his chest was pretty much straining against his shirt, and when he smiled, Prompto felt like a man stumbling across the only gay bar in a bear-less wasteland.

They sat in the open-air dining tables of the Mother of Pearl restaurant, washed in the pale light of the moon. Prompto fiddled with his menu, flipping the pages without really looking at them, while Ardyn sipped from a glass of water like he hadn't just been found dangling from chains in a dark cave somewhere.

"I have a question," Prompto said.

"I'm sure you do," Ardyn said. "No, I don't know how long I was in there, I can't exactly say why my wounds have healed so quickly, and whoever put me there is likely no one's problem any longer. Unless... who's on the throne?"

"Regis?" Prompto said.

Ardyn shrugged. "I have no idea who that is. There we go, then. But that's all... Ancient history, you could say. I'm much more interested in you."

"Huh," Prompto said, and fumbled for his glass. "I'm no one, really. Just a photographer."

Ardyn smiled at him politely.

"A photographer," Prompto said. "I take photos."

Ardyn nodded.

"Do you know what a photo is?" Prompto asked. He pointed at the menu. "Like that. That's a photo."

Ardyn squinted at a picture of a steak. "That isn't a painting?" he asked. "Fascinating. And you made this?"

"No, I, um. I take photos of other things. Like, landscapes. Beaches. People."

"You're an artist," Ardyn said, and some of the blank politeness eased from his face, replaced with genuine interest. "The world can use more of those. Perhaps I can commission you, one day... Do you do portraits?"

Prompto thought of Ardyn lounging on furs in front of a fireplace, sipping wine. "Uh huh," he croaked.

"Good. Oh, look, here comes a servant."

"A waiter," Prompto whispered, as the waiter in question walked up to their table.

"A bottle of your best wine," Ardyn said, when the waiter flipped open his book. Ardyn made a small gesture with his hand, and dropped a stack of gold coins on the table. "And the catch of the day."

The waiter looked down at the pile of gold, then up at Prompto. Prompto tore his gaze away long enough to mumble his own order, and the waiter hastily scooped up the coins before running off.

"He's probably turning in his two weeks notice right now," Prompto said, and jumped as Ardyn's foot bumped his. "You sure you aren't ready to talk about... Whatever that was, back there?" Ardyn shook his head. "Alright. I won't push it. But you gotta admit, it's pretty strange."

"I've grown immune to strange tidings," Ardyn said. "But then, I admit, I wasn't expecting to be rescued, let alone by someone so..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I have noodle arms--"

"Dashing," Ardyn finished, and Prompto pinched his mouth shut. His face was probably beet red, but Ardyn was smiling at him like he _wasn't_ trying not to spontaneously combust in the middle of a public restaurant, and his foot was sliding up Prompto's leg under the table.

"Tell me, Prompto," Ardyn said. "How did you become an artist?"

Prompto folded like a cheap deck of cards. He told Ardyn everything--From the first cheap disposable camera he got in fourth grade, to the awards and contests and college internships, all the way up to the travel journal's assignment to Galdin. The wine was half empty by the time Prompto had moved his chair next to Ardyn's, showing him how to use his phone to swipe from one photo to the next. Ardyn complimented him on his use of light and shade, on the composition, even on the few selfies scattered throughout his camera roll. Prompto took one of him and Ardyn at the end of the night, and had to practically climb into his lap to get a good shot.

"Magnificent," Ardyn said, gazing down at the phone in Prompto's hand.

"Yeah," Prompto said. Ardyn was holding him around the waist, his hand big enough to keep Prompto steady, and Prompto took a shaky breath as he looked into Ardyn's golden eyes. "Yeah, guess so."

Slowly, Ardyn raised his hand to Prompto's chin, and Prompto shifted in his lap, twisting round to face him. He was beautiful, this strange mountain of a man, with his stubbled cheeks and his expressive mouth, and when he looked at Prompto, there was a softness in his eyes that Prompto couldn't quite place. Prompto ran his hand through Ardyn's long, shaggy hair, and Ardyn's lips parted, warm and inviting.

"Prompto," he said, like a blessing, like a prayer.

"Yeah," Prompto said, and closed the distance between them, tipping them both off the chair and onto the hard, polished deck of the Mother of Pearl.

***

The next morning, Prompto opened his eyes to an arm slung over his chest. He blinked slowly, taking in the weight of Ardyn draped over him like a clingy, enormous cat, and groped for his phone.

There were over fifteen messages, all from Noct. Prompto scrolled through them while Ardyn snored softly in his hair, and stopped at the end, squinting blearily at the words.

_Prompto. Please. Please tell me you didn't bone the cave guy._

Prompto glanced over at Ardyn. How could he even start to explain it? Where did anyone begin when it came to Ardyn? He'd heard part of the story that night, wrapped up in camp blankets with the stars shining through the window, but there was no real way to translate it without sounding like he'd walked right into a scifi novel. 

He thought of the kayak, lost forever in the bottom of the ocean. His life, shaken up by a guy in a cave who didn't even know what a photo was, who thought pants were novelties and looked at Prompto like he'd single-handedly harnessed the sun. Prompto sighed and typed out his response, set his phone down, and sank back into Ardyn's arms.

 

 

Miles away, in the fortified city of Insomnia, Noctis Lucis Caelum looked at his phone, groaned, and collapsed back on the couch.

"He's doomed," he whispered, and dropped his phone on the floor. He rolled onto his face, and his voice came out muffled against the couch cushions. "He's definitely doomed."

\--------  
 _Noctis, 1:35AM: Prompto. Please. Please tell me you didn't bone the cave guy.  
Prompto, 5:45AM: ...  
...  
Prompto, 5:46AM: >:3 _


End file.
